I Praise You, for I Am Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

by Marilyn Clark

Psalm 139:14

The months in the hospital dragged on. I could not move — or speak — or swallow. Nourishment was supplied through a tube. Mucus was removed through a tube. The trach in my throat was painful. Passive exercises were done to me. I was fully aware of what was going on around me. The respirator hummed, the bed clothes were uncomfortable, the nurses and technicians buzzed around. Doctors would come and go. Everyone was going about their business except me. I felt a loneliness I had never known before.

They assured me that with Guillain-Barre the nerves to the muscles would regenerate — slowly — oh, how slowly! Would I be able to walk? Talk? Carry on my work? Would my strength be sufficient? Would my faith be strong enough? Did I have the spiritual resources to carry me through? I thought of the Bible verse, "My grace is sufficient for you." I remembered the phrase attributed to Mother Teresa, "I know God will not give me anything I cannot handle. I just wish that God didn't trust me so much." But when my own prayers grew faint, I knew I was being upheld by the prayers of a host of friends, colleagues, family, church members — the community.

After a while there was therapy — physical, occupational and speech therapy. "No pain, no gain," it has been said. Well, there was pain — and eventually, some gain. I could move — just one thumb at first. It was a beginning. Slowly, ever so slowly, some movement returned to arms, legs, hands, torso and lungs. The respirator was removed as I was breathing on my own. I progressed from bed to wheel chair, from to walker to cane. I could walk; I could talk. I felt liberated.

After 19 months I was out of the hospital and home — accompanied by feeding tube, suction machine, leg braces to aid my walking and the trach in my throat. Therapy was continued as an outpatient. But my body was mending, coming back to life. I realized we are "fearfully and wonderfully made." By the grace of a compassionate God, I was given the gift of life — of "ableness." Later the stomach tube was removed and, finally, the trach so I could eat and swallow normally. True, I needed, and still need, the wheel chair for trips to the park zoo, and theater. I need the handicap placard for parking lots and a chair with arms, please! Church pews are difficult. Mounting a step is not possible. Elevators and ramps are a godsend. I am included!

"This is almost a miracle," said one doctor — the same doctor who reported that this was one of the most severe cases they had seen in that large New York City hospital. "We are fearfully and wonderfully made," I respond.